


After the Pulse

by Shadow_Of_Castiel



Category: Dark Angel, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, Established Relationship, Fantasy, Future Fic, M/M, Sexual Content, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-03
Updated: 2010-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-08 16:12:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Of_Castiel/pseuds/Shadow_Of_Castiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wakes up lost and alone in a place he doesn't recognize. Crossover with Dark Angel that was inspired by a recent dream of mine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost and Alone

Dean awoke from a dream, groggily, eyes bleary in the meager light leaking in from outside, splashing against the room and his half open eyelids in gray streaks. He sighed, yawned, smacked his lips wearily as he wondered aloud where the beer was, as he was parched. There was no answer, not from Sam nor from Castiel, both of whom Dean had sworn had been there when he'd gone to sleep the previous evening.

He sat up in bed, eyes suddenly wide as he took in his unfamiliar surroundings, wondering why he hadn't woken up in the same room he'd gone to sleep in. Gone were the somewhat dubious floral wallpaper and matching curtains, even the garishly colored carpet that was threadbare in strategic places. Even the even more dubious stain on the floor between the beds was gone, which Dean was more glad about. He still didn't want to know the origins of the stain, even though he had a very good guess for it.

Instead, his eyes were looking at faded wallpaper long past it's need for re-decoration, peeling from cracked plaster walls, with bricks showing beneath the plaster. The ceiling above him was yellowed, aged, in need of a good hose down and a possible spraying with bleach and disinfectant. The carpet was strewn with litter and odds and unrecognisable ends that may or may not have been organic at some point in the last fifty years.

Dean got to his feet, stared about himself in growing horror and confusion and wondered if this was another of Zachariah's little tricks, trying to teach him a lesson of what life could be like if he didn't agree to become Michael's vessel. Unlike on the previous occasion when it had happened before, when Dean had met his future, more cruel self, he hadn't had a head butting conversation with Zachariah.

All Dean could remember of the previous evening was being in the motel room with Castiel and Sam, researching a half demon chick that seemed only to be able to talk at the level of a five year old and created as many problems, then kissing Castiel before going to sleep, curled up in his lover's arms. Then there had been the dream.

The memory of that dream gave Dean pause; faded images that were bleached of color flitted across the back of his vision, skittering across the surface of his mind's eye and examined with a great effort from Dean himself. He remembered something about a large electrical pulse that swept through a city, obliterating life as anyone knew it, wiping computers of all their memory, destroying technology and everything that people took for granted and laying the buildings to waste. He had the brief impression of flares in the sky, a bright mushroom cloud of energy and then nothing but filth, squalor, people fighting for survival and the right to use the daily allowance of minimal hot water.

He turned about on his heels, taking in the dingy room surrounding him and still not coming up with anything remotely recognizable. He certainly could find no trace of Castiel nor Sam, and he didn't know what was worse; waking up in an unfamiliar place, or waking up in an unfamiliar place alone. He turned again, feet scuffling through the garbage littering the floor and producing echoes that were unnaturally loud to his silent ears. Rats squeaked somewhere overhead and Dean flinched, disgusted to the point of fright that there were vermin so close to himself.

He moved as far away from the rat noises as he could, not wanting to even hear them, let alone see them or have them drop unwanted and unexpected upon his exposed head, and he drew in a large breath in preparation for the loudest shout his parched throat could take in current circumstances.

"Sam? Sammy? CAS?" he yelled, voice hoarse from the need for water, if beer wasn't so readily available, which he was starting to suspect that it wasn't.

There was no answer and Dean's hope for rescue, for explanations, even for company dimmed a little. He moved across the room, wondered if there was light, life outside greater than his own and saw the hum and buzz of industrious life on the street below. He watched as people went about their business merrily enough, as though the destitution that surrounded them didn't bother them. He coudn't see Castiel nor Sam anywhere in the thronging crowds and it bothered him. He wondered if they were alright, whether they were in trouble or hurting somewhere.

A sick feeling coursed through his body at that last thought, and he hated the idea that he was still standing here, impotent and useless in the face of adversity while anything could be happening to his lover and his brother out there in the great unknown. He set his jaw, walked out from the abandoned room with some degree of grim determination, eyes forward, brows pulled low over glowering green eyes, determination fife in his body as he remained resolute on finding his missing family. Even though Castiel wasn't technically family, at least not by blood, he still may as well have been given their close relationship, their tender love.

He strode down the stairwell and on out into the street, almost knocking over a slight woman in her early twenties, all dark hair, slender yet shapely frame wide brown eyes, and full lips. Once upon a time and Dean would have hit on her, angled for a one night stand with someone just like her, yet now, he didn't even bat an eyelid at her attractiveness, to caught up with Castiel to notice anyone else any more.

He raised his hands, ready to apologize to her, but was knocked in the chest by a rabbit punch that winded him more than it should have done. He rubbed at the sore patch in surprise, green eyes blinking at the small form before him, surprised that such a tiny woman would deliver such a mighty punch.

"Hey there, sweetheart, I only wanted to ask you something," he said, in defense of his sudden appearance.

"Yeah? Well, a girl can't be too careful these days," said the young woman, still looking defensive, wary, eyes skimming over the larger man's body as though angling for another punch, another fight, yet receiving none.

Her large brown eyes looked up at him, and Dean smiled, trying to put her at her ease, raising his hands palms outwards to show her he meant no harm. She stiffened, but made no move to hit him again. Dean breathed out a sigh of relief that he would later deny he'd ever held should anyone ask, and stepped away slightly, showing her physically he meant her no harm. He felt out of his depth, uncertain as to where he was, where his brother and Castiel was and felt as though everyone had the upper hand on him, even the lady standing in front of him. At least she, and everyone else around them, knew what was going on.

"Say, can I ask you something?" Dean asked, blinking down at the woman, who looked warier still, but at least a little more receptive now that she knew he wasn't going to attack her or mug her or worse.

Even though she was smaller than him, judging by her earlier rabbit punch he received to his chest, he didn't fancy his chances against her in hand to hand combat. Even though he'd been fighting all his life, or at least most of it, he still didn't think he was equally matched to her. He wondered what her deal was, whether she just worked out a lot or was hopped up on drugs or something. He immediately scrubbed out the notion of drugs; she looked too clean, too presentable, too wide-eyed in the aware sense to be taking drugs. He sighed and wondered if he'd ever get any answers at all. The rate he was going so far, he couldn't see it as a viable possibility any time soon.

"Depending on what it is, ask away. Just so you know, I ain't into any of that wham bam stuff, thanks," and the small woman looked distasteful, as though she'd chewed on something really bad.

"First of, what's your name? I'm Dean," Dean said, deciding that friendliness never hurt anybody, even in uncertain circumstances.

"Max," the small lady said, looking at him from the corner of her eye, full lips pulled into an uncertain smirk.

"Have you seen a guy in a trenchcoat and a suit, dark hair, blue eyes, really nice looking?" Dean asked, hopefully. "His name is Castiel."

Max blinked up at him, as though not quite following his train of thought, yet not quite wanting to push the issue by asking. She also looked curious at Castiel's exotic - to her - name, but Dean didn't want to go into full details about Castiel being an angel to her, even though he wasn't quite sure why. He still felt a little disoriented and out of his depth by current circumstances, and the only way forward for him was to concentrate on something positive, something doable, and that was searching for his missing boyfriend and brother. He opened his mouth and continued talking to Max, filling her in on small details, enough for her to work with at any rate.

"He's my boyfriend, and I don't know where he is. Hell, I don't even know where I am, let alone where Cas is," Dean muttered, scratching at the back of his head with uncertain fingers, brows pulled down low over his eyes as he struggled to sort through recent events and still coming up blank on all fronts.

"Ah, I see, you've lost your boyfriend," Max said, with understanding, face clearing of all uncertainty and suspicion now that she'd realized he really wasn't hitting on her.

"Yes," Dean said, with a quick nod. "So have you seen him?"

"No, but I think I might be able to help you find him. We don't get many strangers here, and those that do arrive, I can find them, no problem," Max replied, confidently, a bright smile softening her features and making her look more friendly. "What did he look like again?"

Dean described Castiel perfectly, holding back on the more intimate information his brain thought up, of the way Castiel kissed, of the way his body felt beneath his own, and the feel of silken skin sliding across his own. He felt an ache in his chest at the thought that Castiel wasn't where he should have been, before he asked another question.

"I'm also looking for someone else - my brother, Sam. He's taller than me, slim but well muscled and floppy brown hair and pouts like a bitch when he doesn't get his own way," Dean said, before checking himself. "No offense."

"None taken," and Max at least had a smile on her face. "You sure went on a bender last night didn't you?"

"Come again?" Dean asked.

"You went on a bender. You don't look like you even know where you are, and you've lost your boyfriend and your brother. Even I can't match that on a good day and that's saying something," and Max laughed at something she'd thought of that Dean wasn't privy to.

Dean shrugged, not really understanding what she meant, and Max's chuckles lessened, yet her eyes still sparkled with warmth, crinkled at the corners as she smiled up at Dean.

"You know what, never mind. You're new," she said, with a shake of her head that sent her long brown hair flying and rippling over her back. "You're in Seattle, Dean. You came at the worst time. The Pulse has hit and wiped everything out."

"Pulse? Yeah, I think I saw that," Dean said, distantly, remembering his dream from the night before, of seeing a mushroom cloud and feeling an electrical force thumping through the air.

"Yeah? Wow, you really must know more than you look like you do. That was six months ago," Max exclaimed, laying one fingerless gloved hand on his arm and guiding him away from where they stood to avoid a passing cyclist.

"Six months? That's impossible. I only saw that - " and Dean broke off his own sentence, charting the latest revelation as something else he couldn't explain. "You know what? Never mind. It's been a strange morning. I don't really understand what's going on."

"No shit," Max replied, with a laugh. "Never mind. I'll get you sorted out, somehow. It's what I do, I guess."

She sighed, then shook her head, but at what Dean didn't know and didn't want to know either. His brain was being assaulted from all sides by things he didn't know or understand and the best way forward for him, was just to function on what he did know and figure out the rest as he was going on. It was the way he'd survived all his life, and he knew it would help him out now.

"C'mon, Dean, let's take you to Logan. He's the go-to guy for information and stuff. He'll help you find your boyfriend, and your brother," Max said, tugging on Dean's arm once more to encourage him to move.

**************************************************************************************


	2. Angel Found

Dean walked forward automatically, green eyes scanning the crowd for Castiel, aching to see a familiar sight of a tan coated man standing as still as a statue in the throngs of milling people. He wanted to feel his touch, to kiss him and to know that he and Sam were safe, that they weren't in danger. He counted it his responsibility to keep them safe and out of harm's way as best as he could, any way that he could, and if that meant finding them ...

"Son of a bitch," Dean exclaimed, coming back to reality from his meandering thoughts as he caught sight of something very familiar and very dear to him.

"What?" Max asked, stopping to stare curiously up at him, as she watched him stride purposefully towards the familiar sleek black shape of his Impala.

"It's my car," Dean threw over his shoulder, running his hands over her sleek hood, reverently skimming over the chrome and beautiful bodywork with pleasure. "Hello, sweetheart. At least something's going right today."

"That's your car?" Max asked in disbelief, hip cocked as she stared outright at the mint vehicle, eyebrows raised as though she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"Yeah. She's beautiful isn't she?" Dean breathed, glad that someone hadn't decided to butcher it in these obviously destitute times.

"I'll say. I ain't never seen a car like it before. You must be rich," Max observed, eyes skimming over Dean's body as though she didn't quite believe it, as though she thought he was the furthest thing from being rich that she could imagine.

"What? No, sweetheart, not me. She was my dad's car. He died, but left her to me some years ago," he said, casting an eye back at her. "Trust me, I wouldn't mind being richer than I am. Until I win big in Vegas, that ain't happening."

Max shrugged. To her mind, Las Vegas hadn't been operational in months, and didn't know why Dean was referencing it now, when he seemed to know about the Pulse if nothing else. The man was strange; something about him seemed to beg that he was different, even though she was far from one to judge, being a transgenic herself. It was in her genes to be different to others, even though she tried to live a normal life and mingle with the humans. She briefly toyed with the idea that Dean was transgenic like herself, but there'd been no evidence of a barcode on his neck, like she had, so that theory had been ruled out pretty early on for her.

She continued watching him, wondering about him, and was distracted by the sound of her beeper going off at her belt. She unclipped it, looked at the display and cursed. Dean glanced up at her curiously and she rolled her eyes, looking displeased.

"Listen up, Dean, I gotta dash, alright? Work's calling," she said, with a disgruntled sigh. "Much as I'd like to help, right now, but I gotta go. I have to have money to live."

"Yeah, I know how that one goes. Where d'you work?" Dean asked, only half listening as he transferred his gaze from his beloved car to the crowds once more, in the search for Castiel and Sam.

"Jam Pony. Courier service," she said, rooting around in her pocket for loose change when her beeper went off again. "Listen I gotta go. Hey, maybe you could hang around in Crash for the afternoon. I'll be gone for a couple hours then I'll come get you, help you find your family."

"What's Crash?" Dean asked, glancing curiously at her.

"Follow me and I'll take you," Max replied, retrieving her bicycle previously left abandoned against a nearby wall, before walking beside it, pushing it slowly through the crowds.

Dean was glad that the bar, which Crash turned out to be, was nearby; he didn't fancy the prospect of leaving his car in an unfamiliar place for long. Max left him at the door, promised she'd be back to help him in a couple hours, before cycling off into the crowds, soon lost to view amongst the people. Dean had no choice but to plunge into the depths of Crash, surprised by the darkness held within and the thronging mass of bodies even at this early hour.

He made his way through the crowd to the bar, glad to see something, at least, that he was familiar with and had some affinity for. He knew you never could go wrong with a bar. He ordered a drink, nursed it moodily and had half made up his mind just to go search for his brother and Castiel by himself, when half of the equation solved itself for him.

A familiar slender hand laid gently upon his forearm and Dean looked up hopefully, face breaking into a grin when he saw Castiel staring expectantly at him, liquid blue eyes seeming to glow in the dim lighting as his full lips puckered into one of his mysterious smiles.

"Cas, thank God," Dean said, standing to embrace Castiel happily, hands resting gently upon the angel's back as he pressed a kiss to Castiel's warm cheek.

Castiel's chuckle was only audible to him in the noisy bar, and Dean was happy when he felt Castiel's arms slide easily around his waist, long fingers resting on his ass as though Castiel had never left. The angel returned the kiss chastely, a little shy in the crowded confines of the bar, pressing his lips softly against Dean's cheek in return. His eyes were large when he looked up at Dean, adoring and relieved to finally be reunited with his lover once more.

"Where were you?" Dean asked. "Where's Sam?"

"I've been looking for you," Castiel replied, gruff voice a gentle soothing balm to Dean's ears, as they moved to sit in a secluded table to one side of the crowded room. "Everything went white and when my vision cleared I was alone. I don't know where your brother is, though, Dean. I only came in here by chance to see if you were here. It seemed a likely place to find you."

Dean smiled lopsidedly at him, before cupping his lover's cheek with one warm hand, staring at Castiel's lips fixedly. When Castiel made no move to either pull away or come closer, Dean closed the distance between them himself, finding Castiel's soft, pliant mouth with his own, and soon lost himself to the kiss. Everything seemed to fade away, and some of the confusion of the past couple hours melted away, washed away by Castiel's love and gentle, tender kisses.

Castiel rested one hand upon Dean's thigh, fingers stroking against his jeans affectionately as the kiss continued and Dean rumbled his approval in a gentle moan soon swallowed by Castiel's mouth. Dean licked at the angel's full lips with his tongue, pressed against his mouth to show his interest and intent to gain entrance and smiled when Castiel opened easily to him, let him lick into his mouth with soft, short sweeps of his tongue.

Dean felt rather than heard Castiel's contented purrs, as glad to be reunited with Dean as Dean was with him, eager to please and to kiss him now that they were safe on a secluded spot. Theybroke apart hastily at the sound of a throat being cleared nearby, but Dean didn't drop his hand from cupping Castiel's cheek, nor did Castiel untangle his long fingers from Dean's hair or take his other hand from Dean's thigh.

"Hey, Max," Dean said, recognizing the same woman from earlier and remembering her name.

"Hey, Dean. This your boyfriend?" Max asked, an amused, yet pleased smile brightening her face and making her brown eyes seem warmer still.

"Yes, he is. This is Cas," Dean replied, immediately, while Castiel gave him a pleased glance over previously being termed Dean's boyfriend to a complete stranger.

Dean smiled at him, slipped his arm around Castiel's shoulder and smiled again, this time up at Max when the angel settled closer to his side, staring at him intently, one hand still resting securely in Dean's lap. Max was trying not to grin, obviously touched by their closeness and not wanting to possibly give offense or giving the wrong impression by openly grinning.

"C'mon, I'll take you to Logan. I managed to get outta work now. He'll probably manage to find your brother for you," she said, gesturing with one small hand, still covered with fingerless gloves.

Dean looked to Castiel before he inclined his head to his lover, gesturing without words that they should follow the diminutive Max. Castiel gave him his long, slow nod, never taking his eyes from Dean's, just as silent as the hunter had been. She waited off to one side until they stood, followed her from the dingy, darkened room out into fresh air once more.

This time, she didn't bother getting on her bike; instead she climbed into the back of the Impala, obviously curious about the luxurious nature of the car itself. She hadn't been in a car as nice as the Impala, too used to Manticore institutional life and her own motorbike and bicycle. She breathed deeply and smelt the tang of leather, Dean and burgers. She also caught something else that she didn't immediately recognise, nostrils flaring when Castiel climbed into the front and immediately placing the clean, pure, almost chocolatey scent with him. He'd been in the car with Dean, spent time with him on the back seat and -

Max blushed slightly, looked resolutely out of the window and watched as Dean got behind the wheel, trying not to think too hard about just what the pair did in the back seat. Sometimes it was hard being a transgenic, having the keen nose of a cat and finding out awkward things about people that should be kept private between them. Dean and Castiel were no exception; they deserved their privacy on their love life and it was no concern of hers.

"Hey, sweetheart, where's your friend live?" Dean asked, breaking into her thoughts and making her smile automatically to cover her own embarrassment and discomfort.

Neither Castiel nor Dean picked up on her discomfort; both merely waited until she gave the directions, leaning on the back of the bench seat in front, repeating her directions more succinctly once Dean had started the car and drove away from the curb.

Before long, they were parked outside a luxurious apartment block, much better than the neighbourhood they'd previously been in. Still Dean kept silent, raising questioning eyebrows at Castiel, who gave him a typically expressionless look back. Even so, Dean could detect the question in his eyes, more attuned to Castiel's shift of moods when no one else could define them or pin them down, could see his question over why some lived in luxury while others were impoverished by the small frown that creased his brow and turned his liquid blue eyes darker.

They remained silent on the way up to Logan's apartment; Dean grew more uncomfortable with the posh surroundings, being more used to crappy motel rooms at best. He felt underdressed and loathe to touch anything in case someone accused him of theft. Castiel pointedly didn't touch anything either and Dean smiled at that, thinking that even angels could be wary of uncertain surroundings and situations. He reached out and took Castiel's hand gently, deciding that if he couldn't even touch his own lover, then he was truly lost.

A few minutes later and they were sitting in Logan's apartment, staring over his shoulder as he showed them footage scrolling across his computer screen, showing Sam wandering alone, apparently lost on an unknown - to Dean and Castiel - street. The young hunter stopped every so often to peer hopefully into shop windows, to stare at likely passers-by, as though hoping for a sight of his brother and Castiel. Dean looked to Max leaning next to him, so close he could smell the shampoo she'd last used in her hair, yet again she didn't prove a turn-on to him, where once she would have done.

His hand tightened possessively on Castiel's fingers, made the angel turn to stare at him curiously, as though he wondered what was happening to his lover, made Dean turn a reassuring smile upon him. Castiel's liquid blue eyes were warm, yet he didn't smile, just stared solemnly, unblinkingly at Dean.

He turned back, watched as his brother lifted his cell phone to his ear, lips pursing impatiently as he tried, for perhaps the hundredth time to call his brother. Dean frowned, knew from personal experience that the phone wouldn't work for Sam in much the same way his own hadn't worked for him, nor would Castiel's work. He watched as Sam sighed, snapped his phone closed, before turning away to head into a bar, plunging down into the depths using a staircase to head further inside.

"Hey, that's Crash," Max pointed out, referencing the bar that Dean had met Castiel in, confidently, tucking one strand of hair behind her ear, full lips pursing as her dark brown eyes scanned Logan's computer screen closely.

Logan leant back in his seat, eyebrows lifting as he stared silently at Max, blue eyes amused behind his wire rimmed glasses. His long fingers pinched his lower lip as he swung back and forth on his chair, yet still he remained silent, even when Max punched him hard in the shoulder to get him to 'fess up to what he was thinking.

Castiel watched the exchange in much the same way as he watched anything else, with solemn, expressionless regard, blue eyes calculating, never missing a trick. Dean at least smiled at their easy exchange, slid one arm about Castiel's waist, fingers resting lightly upon Castiel's hip as Max finally drew away from Logan, apparently unsatisfied after not getting him to speak as to what was on his mind.

Max rolled her eyes at them, before saying - "Don't take any notice of Logan today, He didn't eat his wheaties this morning. Gets him grumpy."

Dean snorted out a small huff of a laugh, before he said - "Yeah, my brother gets like that too."

"I do not get grumpy. And I don't even like wheaties," Logan said, winking at Dean over Max's shoulder to indicate he was joking.

Dean grinned at that, as beside him, Castiel watched the exchange with some interest.

"Thanks for your help, Logan," Dean said to the other man, with an appreciative nod. "It's certainly cut out some of the worry over where my brother is."

"No problem," Logan replied, with a slight shrug, long fingers lifting from his mouth as he did so. "It's part of my job, I guess."

"I've heard that one before," Dean replied, glancing at Max and thinking she'd said something similar to him earlier in the day.

He found himself thinking that there was something going on with both Max and Logan, something they knew yet weren't telling, secrets held in their capable hands. Dean could well identify with that, but perhaps for different reasons; he often kept his lifestyle as a hunter hidden from most. Even his relationship with Castiel was kept under tight wraps unless it became necessary to reveal it.

Even though Dean himself was comfortable with sleeping with a guy, he knew that not everyone was so willing to forgive his preferences right now, despite the fact that he regarded himself as bisexual anyway. Castiel, he knew, was asexual, despite the typically male body he was riding, which kind of cancelled out the gay aspect of their relationship.

Neither Logan nor Max seemed the slightest bit offended by their relationship, however, leading Dean to further believe there was something else not quite right about them, as though they were not in the position to judge others.

"We'd best be off," Dean announced, turning to look askance at Castiel momentarily. "I want to get Sam before he lands himself into any trouble."

"I think that for the best, Dean," Castiel replied, with one of his typically slow nods.

"Thanks again, Logan," Dean said, turning to Logan once more, before Max twirled her leather jacket about her shoulders easily and shrugged her arms into the sleeves with well practiced ease beside them.

Logan waved away their thanks, merely watched them leave, leaning back in his wheelchair and turning back to his bank of computer screens when they'd left the apartment.

**************************************************************************************


	3. In This Together

"Where the hell are we? Where the hell were you?" Sam asked, upon first seeing Dean and Castiel walk into the bar, dark eyes frowning, yet slightly scared, on his guard against unknowable circumstances.

Max faded into the background, called away by friends from work, affording the trio much needed time together in the process. Castiel watched her go, nodded at her gratefully in thanks when she glanced over her shoulder at them and received a grin in return. He turned back, caught the end of Dean's explanation that they were in Seattle, that there'd been some kind of pulse that had obliterated life as they once knew it, that there was no more that Dean could tell him than that. He couldn't even tell Sam what year it was despite having concerns that it wasn't their own somehow.

Sam meanwhile looked disbelieving; not because the tale was so tall, but because he didn't seem to want to believe it. His eyes held that desperate edge that told Castiel that despite all the evidence that literally surrounded them on all sides, he thought that this was some kind of joke, a trick or perhaps the worst kind of dream.

"This isn't a dream, Sammy, this is real," Dean told him, catching the same desperate look in Sam's eyes that Castiel had observed. "Unless we're all having a mass hallucination somehow. I told you those burgers tasted funny last night. We've gotten infected by hallucinations or something."

"That's not likely, Dean. I didn't eat those burgers, yet I'm still here," Castiel pointed out, voice free from recriminations as he stared patiently at his lover.

Dean nodded, then said - "Okay, so it wasn't the burgers. Then what was it?"

"This is like something the Trickster would do," Sam groused, scuffing the toe of one boot against the ground and wishing he was anywhere else but where he currently was at that stage in time. "Remember when he had us running in circles through all those TV shows not so long ago?"

"Oh yeah. You were the KITT car," Dean remembered. "And you had genital herpes."

"Shut up," Sam said, teeth gritting as he refused to look at his brother.

"This is also like something Zachariah would do. He sent me into the future, remember?" and Dean turned away awkwardly, when he thought of how Sam had been as Lucifer's vessel, how broken Castiel had been and how he, himself had been; cruel, callous, willing to sacrifice his own friends to get the job done.

"Yeah," Sam said, quietly, not wishing to broach the subject when he only knew small parts of the story himself, from the little that Dean had told him.

"I also sent you back into the past - twice," Castiel reminded them. "How do you know it wasn't me messing about with the time line?"

"Nah, Cas, I know it's not you. The last time you sent us back to the past you were practically comatose," Dean said, immediately. "You look fine to me. Actually you look more than fine."

Castiel smiled, while Sam said - "Dean, you're not helping. Leave your boyfriend alone for five minutes and sort this out."

Dean raised his eyebrows at his brother, smirking as though he thought Sam was creating a fuss and acting like a big girl; Sam typically took no notice, all too used to being viewed in that light by his own brother by now.

"Whatever's happening, at least we're in this together now," Castiel pointed out, serenely, sensibly, gruff voice cutting to the chase quickly.

"Yeah, but how do we get out of it?" Dean asked him, not looking particularly happy at still being trapped in a time that wasn't their own, with people he didn't know or feel any real affinity for.

"That's the idea - you don't." came an unfamiliar voice from nearby, making all three look up and over towards the voice in surprise.

Dean groaned at the sight of a black eyed female staring directly at them, a cruel sneer upon her face as started to move closer, bringing her demonic stench with her. One by one, the other patrons of the bar turned round, stopped what they were doing, revealing black eyes and nasty sneers, moving closer to Dean, Sam and Castiel trapped in the far corner, faraway from the staircase, the door, freedom.

The situation looked bleaker still when every single one of the people surrounding them revealed that they were all demons, with the exception of Max and a couple stunned individuals around them. As if gravitating to a safe spot, Max and her fellow unaffected gravitated towards Dean, Sam and Castiel, standing with them but facing outwards towards the thronging demons, hands raised as though waiting for a fight.

Nothing happened, with none of the demons were rushing them nor trying to fight them. Dean stared, hand resting on the grip of his gun, waiting for the excuse to draw, to shoot some demonic sons of bitches. Beside him, Castiel had his knife drawn, blade shining in the meager light as they waited for the excuse to defend themselves. That excuse never came; for the demonic masses parted as though before a great leader. It took Dean a while to recognise the Archangel Michael, dressed in someone who wasn't the younger version of his own father.

"Hello, Dean. I see you recognise me," Michael said, commanding voice smooth yet commandingly cold as he stared directly at Dean. "Well met, Sam. Well met, Castiel."

"Hello, brother," Castiel said, reverently, bowing slightly before Michael, body stiff, eyes never moving from Michael's face as though he didn't fully trust the other angel.

Dean couldn't say as to how he blamed him, considering his lover's current plight regarding his brothers and his home. Sam shifted beside him, uncomfortably, remained silent in the face of Michael, not looking too thrilled to be in the presence of the powerful archangel. He quite distinctly remembered dying last time Michael was around, although that was more Anna's doing and by her hand than Michael's.

"What are you doing here? More to the point, what are we doing here? I take it this is the future right? Again?" Dean asked the angel, not looking the slightest bit amused or entranced by their current predicament. "I'm kinda getting a little tired of being sent to the future or to the past."

Michael didn't look as though he particularly cared; then again, neither Dean, Sam nor Castiel were surprised by this. Max and the two remaining transgenics with her were watching the proceedings with growing suspicion, almost fear. They were faced with something that wasn't human, more powerful than a human, something they hadn't encountered before and it unsettled them. Max sniffed the air, caught a scent that was similar to Castiel's own scent but far more potent, stronger, more powerful and rich.

"This is not necessarily the future, Dean," Michael told him slowly. "Merely a possible representation of the future, if you don't agree to housing me."

"Oh not again; this is getting kinda old, now," Dean said, slumping where he stood and rolling his eyes in disgust at the angel's words, coming so early in the conversation. "I swear you guys are all obsessed about vessels."

"Not just any vessels, Dean. Our Vessels," Michael corrected, coming forward to stand directly before Dean, dark eyes boring into the hunters and giving him chills from the power held within his gaze." You're mine, as well you know, and Sam is my errant brother's true vessel."

He had a regretful look on his face when he spoke of Lucifer, as though the memory of the Morning Star pained him, or at least the memory of casting him from Heaven pained him.

"Why are you here, Michael?" Castiel asked, gruff voice repeating Dean's earlier question. "Why are we here?"

"I told you; to show you the way things could turn out if you don't say yes to me, to my brother. You see, the Pulse that decimated life as you know it, sending the world into chaos and ending the onward march of progress in the Information age, was all a by-product of Lucifer himself," and Michael nodded at Max's sudden squawk of defiance. "That's right, child. The devil destroyed the world with an electrical detonation."

"But why?" Sam asked, eyes shifting uneasily from Michael to the demons still ranged motionless behind him, as though magnetized into inaction by an unspoken command from the angel.

"You know of the Fall, right? And how Lucifer hates humanity with a passion, because our Father asked us all to bow to humans, to serve them and put them before God himself? Lucifer refused to bow subservience to humans, so decided to wage war upon them. The Pulse was yet another ploy to rid the planet of them, or rather you," Michael said, pointedly towards Dean, then reluctantly to Sam. "Demons populated the planet in your, that is to say, human's absence, but Lucifer hates them almost as much as he hates humans. He blames them for securing his downfall to the netherworld. They're next on his list."

"I think Crowley mentioned something along these lines not so long ago. Or a long time ago depending what time frame we're working in," Dean corrected himself, scratching the back of his head with one confused hand as he struggled to come to terms with what was present and what was future.

"Then you know some of what's been happening then," Michael said, lifting one shoulder in a diffident shrug, as though it really mattered little to him, and perhaps it didn't.

"Why isn't she a demon, like the others?" Sam asked, pointing to Max, then wordlessly to her two transgenic companions.

"Max? She's one of the lucky ones. A transgenic, designed by human scientists at the suggestion of angels as a final vanguard against the demons, or a genetic mutant to use layman's terms. She's a soldier, designed to be faster, stronger, better than your average human; the ultimate killing machine. It's her destiny to fight, in her blood to do so. She and others like her were supposed to do what you could not, and refused to do," and Michael stared pointedly at Dean. "They are destined to fail because of you. In five years time, there will be no one left and Lucifer will have won. Do you want that to happen? Do you want that responsibility on your shoulders?"

The archangel stared at Dean pointedly, made him shift uncomfortably and reach blindly for Castiel's hand, seeking comfort and finding it in the shape of the angel's long, slender fingers and warm palm.

"Wait a minute, Mikey. You said this was a possible future. This might not even happen yet," Dean pointed out, fishing for straws and coming up with flaws in Michael's argument.

"And so I did. There's an infinite number of ways the world can end, Dean. This is only one of them and Lucifer wins every time. Do the sensible thing and say yes to me and stop Lucifer before it becomes too late, one way or another," Michael said, before snapping his fingers sharply.

Dean blinked, felt the sharp tang of salty air hitting his face, hand still wrapped solidly around his lover's, as Sam stared up at the star strewn sky in surprise. No longer were they surrounded by demons, nor were they faced with Michael. Max was missing and so were her genetic mutant friends. Even the bar was missing, and the litter strewn streets of a desolate Seattle. Instead were the flowing lines of a Boston skyline, bright lights littering against the star strewn sky above. The docks were nearby, water plashing against the shore in steady waves, comforting in their gentleness. They were back in their own time once more, back where they'd started before heading to a future that might or might not happen, was one of infinite choices where no one won except Lucifer himself.

**************************************************************************************


	4. I'll Take Good Care of You.

The following night and the sky was still their own and Dean had never been so glad to see it as he was right then. He stared up at the faultless night sky, tried and failed to count the multitudes of stars that were overhead, sighed when he felt Castiel's presence standing nearby. He turned to face his lover, smiled when he saw the intense, loving look trapped behind the angel's liquid blue eyes, the faint smile that graced his plump lips perfectly.

"How d'you find me?" he asked, already knowing the answer yet still feeling compelled to ask anyway.

"Sam told me," Castiel gave the expected answer, patiently.

Dean nodded, knew that his brother had no doubt sent Castiel after him for his own peace of mind as well as Castiel's. Dean knew that sometimes Sam worried about him, judging by the look in his eyes at times as he watched him while Dean supposedly wasn't looking, and he looked more comfortable whenever Castiel was near. Dean had often wondered at that, wondered why Sam was so insistent that Castiel be there when he could not, despite the fact that they were in a relationship anyway. It had taken him a while to figure out that Sam liked to see Dean happy, and knew that Castiel always made him happy, encouraging them to be together more and more often to ensure the elder Winchester's ongoing happiness.

Dean walked forward, closed the distance between himself and Castiel, before looking down at a pair of large blue eyes, trust and love held within their liquid depths as Castiel gave him his usual, patented intense stare. Dean cupped his lover's face with both hands, pressed fervent lips against Castiel's softer ones, enjoyed the feel of his responsiveness against his moth at the kitten quick purls of contented need purling from Castiel's throat as they kissed.

Dean lapped at the angel's plump lips, removing all traces of the taste of Castiel himself from them, demanding entrance to the angel's warm wet mouth and receiving it willingly. He plundered the cavern of Castiel's mouth, tongues battling for dominance and finding themselves equal in their love, their need and Dean sighed in contentment against Castiel's equally contented purrs.

A crowd of noisy teenagers walked past, screaming and cheering as the lovers kissed, disturbing the pace that had settled around them and distracting Dean irritably from his prize. Castiel's hands restrained the hunter from going after them and showing them a lesson or three, fingers digging into the hunter's hips, thumbs dipping down to caress his hip bones gently. Dean forced himself to look back at Castiel, to concentrate only on his lover and no one else. He smiled at the tender look in Castiel's eyes, the pucker of his perfect, soft lips pushed out into a pout, the faint flush that decorated the angel's thin cheeks as he stared at Dean.

The hunter felt a surge of love so strong consume him, bolstered by the previous thought that he'd never see his lover again, and he pulled him into a tight hug, hands bunching in the thick material of Castiel's trenchcoat as he nuzzled greedily at the angel's neck. His lips brushed against his lover's neck, raining kisses upon his skin and into his soul, before he pulled away slightly, a gentle smile curving his lips and making Castiel stare questioningly at him.

"I love you so much, Cas," Dean said, the unfamiliar words heavy in his mouth but worth the look of delight that settled out upon Castiel's usually too solemn expression.

"I love you, too, Dean," Castiel replied, cupping Dean's cheek with one slender hand and trailing the pad of one thumb over Dean's lips.

He felt Dean shudder beneath his touch as he repeated the gesture, loving the feel of the hunter's soft lips beneath his fingers, the way they opened up to suck upon his fingers gently when Castiel held them there, near his mouth. He felt consumed by love for Dean, something he never thought he'd ever feel in his long existence. If being barred from Heaven was worth a thing, this was it. Love, and Dean was worth being barred from Heaven and the loss of some of his powers, receding still day by day.

Dean leant in, nuzzled his lover's neck once more, before nibbling gently on his earlobe, teeth scraping against soft skin, breath tickling across the shell of Castiel's ear in gentle, needy bursts. He kissed Castiel's ear before pulling away a small distance, breath still bursting against Castiel's earlobe.

"Get in the car, Cas," he said, voice commanding, demanding, dark with need. "I want to fuck you."

Castiel shuddered against Dean, pulled away willingly before opening the back seat of the Impala, and sliding impatiently in. He pressed one hand to his chest quickly, blinked, and was already naked by the time Dean piled in after him. The hunter gaped at his lover's hasty state of undress, eyes trained hungrily upon Castiel's dick curling proudly up towards his abdomen, pre-cum shining across the head in glistening beads.

Castiel's eyes remained trained on Dean as he slowly started caressing his dick, fingers playing across his hard shaft, hips slowly moving in time with his questing hand as he touched himself. Small whimpers started working past his restricted throat as he worked at his dick and Dean hurried to get out of hid clothing, eager to get inside Castiel and to fuck him, ease the ache in his dick and the tension in his balls and sate his lust for his lover.

He finally struggled free of his last sock, fumbled for the lube in the glove compartment before squeezing some of the shining fluid over his trembling eager fingertips, tongue lapping at his dry lips as Castiel continued to pleasure himself nearby, writhing on the back seat with ever growing moans of need breaking the air between them.

"Dean," Castiel moaned, voice harsh with need, deepened with roughened lust as his hand sped up on his aching shaft. "Deeeean."

The hunter groaned at the sound of him, almost coming to hear him, before he angled his lover's legs wide apart as Castiel continued to jerk off beneath him. He stroked his wet fingers at the entrance of Castiel's tight hole, made the angel cry out at the feel of him breaching him, hips jerking and stuttering between his own hand and Dean's stretching him loose and wide. Castiel's back arched as he finally climaxed, seed splashing out over his hand and abdomen and across Dean's chest in great stripes, thick spurts.

Dean worked him hard, quickened his fingers to work him looser still before pulling away, smoothing lube over his dick eagerly, swiftly, before pressing the head against Castiel's loosened hole and pressing inside. He barely waited for Castiel to settle out around him before he sheathed himself fully inside his lover, hips already rolling against Castiel's as he fucked his dick into him eagerly. Castiel spread his legs wider still about his lover's body, hands splayed out against Dean's naked ass and pushing him in deeper. groans filling the air around them as their bodies writhed on the back seat of the Impala.

Dean kept his eyes fixed on Castiel's face, saw the ever shifting expressions of desire, love, need playing across his lover's perfect face, plump lips parting in a needy pout as Dean thrust into him eagerly. The angel lifted his hips every time Dean withdrew, fucked himself onto the hunter's dick with a desperate groan, mouth wider still as he panted for breath he didn't really need beneath his lover.

He looked so beautiful, so blown wide with lust and pleasure, so fucked out yet needy for more that Dean came from the sight of him alone, arching his back and throwing his head to the side as he spurted deep inside his lover, his angel, coating them both with the thick strands of his seed. He screamed for Castiel, love apparent in his voice as he climaxed, Castiel holding him as he rode waves of bliss above him.

He came crashing down from orgasmic highs, laying heavily down upon his lover and resting his head breathless upon the angel's naked, sweaty shoulder, eyes blindly staring as he smiled sleepily, happily in sated pleasure. Castiel cradled him in his tender arms, kissed his head gently, lips lingering against Dean's hair as he inhaled the sharp, spicy sweet fragrance of his lover. He felt tenderness wash through him, love, gentle respect and the need to hold Dean, to be held by him as they relaxed after their frantic love making in the back seat of Dean's Impala.

Castiel waited, didn't resist when Dean started pumping his hips against his some time later, rocking up to meet his lover with intent, dick hard and bobbing between their rutting bodies as Dean rode him eagerly, yet tenderly this time. Their eyes met and locked, mouths gaping as they gently writhed on the back seat, muscles working as they fucked, toes, fingers flexing and contracting as they came closer to release.

Castiel started touching himself again, hand working steadily at his thick shaft eagerly, groaning as he touched sensitive spots on his dick and making shudders work though his own body as he continued staring at Dean. He wanted the hunter to know that he was there with Dean, truly there, thinking about him, feeling him moving inside him and he climaxed without warning, splashing out over them with a scream of Dean's name.

The hunter felt the ripples and aftershocks of Castiel's orgasm tightening against his thrusting dick and he rutted harder against him, eager for his own release and finding it soon after, spurting inside his lover in thick, hot strands of spend. Castiel's name was a ragged whimper of need, heavy with the love, the lust he felt for him, still barely sated but too weary to act any more upon his own need for him. He slumped against Castiel's firm, yet slender body once more, falling into a deep, weary sleep, still cradled by the angel's arms, soothing words whispered into his ear.

When he woke, Castiel was meditating, eyes half closed and a contented smile decorating the angel's face, and Dean found that his dick was still sheathed inside the angel's ass. Neither of them had moved since Dean had been asleep, and he felt a jerk of interest pull at his cock, stiffening it and drawing Castiel attention back to him. The angel looked aroused, interested and Dean rolled his hips against his lover's once more, finding no resistance to his advances at all.

The world receded once more for the lover's and Dean was vaguely aware of the Impala rocking beneath their rutting bodies, windows steamed from their exploits as they achieved climax once more. The hunter finally pulled out of his lover, laid beside him on the limited space of the bench seat, smiling gently at the fantastic sex they'd shared. He turned his face up to Castiel's when the angel leant in for a kiss, purling mewls of encouragement working past plump, kiss swollen lips. They exchanged whispered words of mutual love before Dean settled into the side of Castiel's body, soon filling the air with his snores.

The angel smiled tenderly, before lifting himself slightly and unfurling his wings awkwardly in the limited space, covering their bodies with their feathered warm embrace against the chill of the night now descending upon them. He settled down and held Dean, enjoying the closeness of his lover, the naked feel of him pressed against his side and the absolute trust that Dean had placed in him to look after him while he slept.

Castiel kissed his forehead gently, before whispering - "I'll take good care of you, Dean."

Dean remained sleeping, oblivious to the angel's promise, but Castiel didn't mind. It was the promise that held weight with him, more so than if Dean heard it or not. Despite the hunter's need to be independent and drive to be the protector of everybody, Castiel still could see through him, and see the need that Dean had himself, of needing to feel protected and safe himself, of needing to be loved, wanted for his own merits and achievements, recognised for the person he was inside, or in some, cases, despite the person he was inside.

In Castiel, he had no fear; the angel knew he loved him no matter what and would make good on his promise to look after him, to protect him, to shelter him without question or asking for anything in return. Secretly he knew that Dean would do the same for him and more if only Castiel himself would allow him to. He sighed in contentment and waited for the morning to come.

**************************************************************************************


	5. Protective angel

Dean woke with the sun in his eyes once more, feeling more at peace than the morning before, cradled in Castiel's arms. He moved and felt the soft brush of the angel's wings embracing his body in their tender warmth and Dean smiled, knew that the angel had been thinking of him to want to protect him from the cold. Castiel smiled at him uncertainly, large eyes seeming larger in his head as he stared adoringly at Dean, a faint question in his eyes as though expectant of a rebuttal for looking out for him.

Instead, Dean smiled, leant in for a grateful kiss, and said - "Thanks, Cas."

He didn't speak again, and Castiel knew what he was thanking him for - his love and protection over the night without being asked for it and knew he hadn't been too presumptive nor smothering for the hunter. His assumptions, his thoughts the previous night were quite correct; Dean was more fragile internally than he appeared on the outside and Castiel was the only person that Dean was starting to allow to see that fragility these days.

He smiled, gently caressed Dean's cheek with one outstretched finger, before leaning in to kiss the tip of Dean's nose quickly and making the hunter chuckle in surprise. Castiel smiled slightly at him, eyes warm and affectionate as he stared at the hunter stretched out beside him. Dean sighed, warm breath whuffling against the angel's skin, before he leant in for a kiss. Castiel responded gently, lips meeting and parting with satisfied murmurs of mutual pleasure, hands resting against warm naked skin, feathers brushing slickly against Dean's back.

Dean eventually pulled away, regretfully, looking towards his lover with a gentle smile curling his lips.

"C'mon, Cas. We'd best get dressed and go back to Sam. He'll be wondering where we are," he said, ruefully, not wanting the moment to end yet knowing that it had to.

Castiel nodded slowly at him, lifting his wing from Dean's body and watching as Dean crawled out from beneath its warm protection, shivering in the early morning light as he scrambled from the back seat and hastily pulled on his clothes. By the time Dean had dressed and turned back to the car, Castiel was already standing beside it, fully clothed, wings just folding back into his body as he watched Dean intently.

The hunter smiled at him, wondered why he'd deserved Castiel and his love, before just turning away, thinking himself a fool for even questioning something so perfect, so beautiful in the first place. He walked round the car to get behind the wheel, fired the engine and waited until Castiel had climbed in beside him before pulling away, back to Sam and their motel room.

Sam was already up, and packing by the time they walked in and the younger Winchester looked up when they both walked in. He smiled at their return, didn't look as angry as Dean would have expected. The elder Winchester relaxed slightly, wondered why he even should expect to explain his own love life to his brother when it shouldn't even concern him at all. Castiel reached forward and took Dean's hand, long fingers curling around his own and making Sam smile at the easy gesture.

"Have fun last night?" he asked, turning away to resume packing.

"Yup," Dean said, turning a smile onto Castiel and stealing a kiss from him.

Sam nodded but remained silent at that, zipping up his bag and carrying some of their luggage out to the Impala while he waited for Dean to pack his own things. Castiel didn't have much in the way of possessions, so he helped his lover with his own packing. Both worked in silence, together, before they walked out of the motel room, joining Sam at the car, who was staring up at the fresh morning sky appreciatively.

"So what's on the agenda today? For God's sake, don't tell me we're going to the future again," he groaned not wanting to repeat the excursion from yesterday again.

"Nope, actually there's demon problems in Sacramento. Might as well check it out," Dean replied, as he hefted the last bag into the trunk of the Impala.

Sam nodded wordlessly, before he watched Castiel climb into the front seat once more, Dean beside him behind the wheel. He heard the familiar throaty rumble of the Impala's engine cut through the air, and he strode easily to the back seat, climbed in. They each remained largely silent on the trip to California, too lost in their own private thoughts to talk too much.

-fini-


End file.
